


Pilfering Poet

by Melusine11



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Ben Solo Has Many Talents, Bootlegger Ben Solo, Can 5 chapters or less really be a slow burn, Dash of Humor, Diamonds as a kink apparently, F/M, Heist, Heists, Historical Inaccuracy, House Party, Jewelry, Mentions of War, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poet Ben Solo, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Smut, thief rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine11/pseuds/Melusine11
Summary: When Rey crashes a house party one chilly fall evening, she's only after a good time and a few trinkets, but it's just her luck she ends up tangling with the one man who can match her tit for tat.Ben Solo has been looking for an accomplice for his most daring theft yet, one that will guarantee his freedom, right in time for Christmas. Isn't it just his luck that the person he needs steals her way into his life at the opportune moment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Autonomee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autonomee/gifts).



> Prompt: 1920’s Kylo Ren and Rey are about to pull off the greatest heist just in time for Christmas Anything goes!

The music is spilling into the street from the open front door as Rey passes by. It’s practically an invitation, and she hesitates for a moment on the sidewalk — just long enough to watch a couple dart across the street and right up to the steps of the brownstone.

She would get in trouble if she were out past curfew, but if she kept an eye on the time she could miss the door locking, and still sneak in by the time bed checks happened. Decision made, she walks up the steps and into the cacophony of the house party.

It’s immediately clear why the door is open on such a chilly fall evening. People are packed inside, dancing, smoking, and most importantly, drinking, but she’s already missing the cool night air in the thick, sweet scent of the bodies around her.

This is possibly the nicest house she’s ever been in. She presses through dancers in the living room, girls with money, with a future, in gorgeous dresses full of fringe and beading, flaring out and moving wildly as they dance. If she listens hard enough she can hear the quiet clicking of the beads as the fringe butts up against each other. Rey feels underdressed and out of place in her boring blue dress without beading and keeps it covered as best she can with her light jacket. She’ll just wear it all night, and that’s her plan until she makes it into the kitchen where bottles and glasses litter the countertops in an impressive display. An entire underground speakeasy could be stocked with these wares.

She picks up the closest bottle to her that isn’t empty and lifts it to her nose. Gin. Absurdly strong gin.

“Can I take your coat?” Rey feels the bottle slip in her fingers and her grip tightens on it as she spins to find the source of the voice.

He’s half in shadow, straddling the doorway from the kitchen into the backyard, but even still, Rey can see how intense his gaze is.

“I’m okay,” she answers weakly, finding a clean-looking glass, then pouring herself a drink and lifting it to her lips, watching the man sigh before turning away from her.

“Suit yourself, I know it can’t be comfortable with how warm it is inside.”

“I can’t stay long,” Rey returns, after taking a long sip. She clears her throat, regretting not finding something else to add to it, “you make this yourself?”

“Sure did, right upstairs,” he tells her, turning back around and stepping fully inside now, “Why can’t you stay?”

Rey smiles as she finally gets a look at the man. Tall, broad shoulders, dark eyes and even darker hair, slicked back enough to be fashionable, but just long enough that it looks like maybe he’s been putting off seeing his barber. She thinks he probably just leaves it like that because it looks like a poor attempt to cover his ears, which suit his face just fine, but everyone has their own insecurities, she supposes. It’s the scar that runs a jagged line down across the right side of her face that catches her attention, and then suddenly she’s trying to look anywhere but there.

“The nuns,” she tells him over the sound of an outbreak of cheers, “they don’t like it when you miss curfew.”

“Boarding house?” he asks, sounding a little surprised as he shuffles towards her, picking up a half-full bottle and drinking straight from it.

Rey laughs, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not from here, and really, it’s not so bad, a room of my own, two square meals a day.”

“No men allowed,” the stranger points out with a smirk.

Rey nods, “No men allowed, but they certainly try.”

The smirk grows almost into a smile before it fades, “So what brought you here, instead of staying back in London, or wherever it is you may have grown up?”

“Just wanted something different, wanted to see the world a little bit, I suppose, wanted a fresh start somewhere new.”

“How is that working out for you so far?”

“No complaints,” she shrugs. “What about you? Any reason why you’re lurking back here all alone at your own party?”

He looks shocked for only a moment before he schools his features into an almost blank expression, “I’m not one for parties, but I promised a friend.”

“A good friend,” she raises her glass in a toast, and he lifts his bottle towards her.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks abruptly and Rey smiles, “You have to take off your coat.”

Gently, she sets down her glass and then slowly unbuttons her coat before slipping out of it and holding it out to him. “One dance,” she tells him as he takes it from her hands and hangs it on the doorknob of the back door where it just brushes the floor.

“One dance,” he agrees, now holding out a hand for her own, and as soon as she places her hand in his, he’s pulling her close, spinning her around in time to the music until they’ve joined the press of bodies in the rest of the house. He’s a good dancer, more nimble on his feet than she would have given him credit for, and together they move and Rey doesn’t feel so underdressed anymore.

When the song comes to a close Rey feels slightly out of breath and she isn’t sure if it’s because she can’t remember the last time she danced like that, or if it’s the way he’s looked at her the entire time. Cheers ring out around them and the party claps, someone tries to kiss someone else and earns a slap to the cheek for their troubles, and laughter overtakes the cheering.

Rey casually slips back into the kitchen, her mystery host on her heels.

“I’m Ben, by the way, Ben Solo,” he introduces himself as he watches her get back into her coat.

“Rey,” she smiles as she looks up at him. “Rey Niima. It was nice meeting you, Ben, thanks for the party.” 

He looks a little bemused and holds out a hand for her to shake, “Thank you for crashing it, I suppose,” he teases, which makes her laugh as she takes his hand once more, this time shaking it. “It was very nice to meet you, Rey,” he tells her and she gives him one last smile before making her way back through the living room, hands tucked into her pockets.

Several people she doesn’t know shout goodbye, two girls give her drunken hugs, and Rey finally feels like she can breathe again once she’s back out in the cool night air. 

A block away from Ben Solo’s party, her fingers brush against the leather in her pocket and with a grin she withdraws the watch that had been adorning her gracious host's wrist. She has ten minutes until curfew and another twenty before bed checks. She can make it. If she runs.

She barely makes it, the front doors have been locked long ago, and she darts down the side of the building, and then shucks off her shoes to make the climb. Her stockings are a loss, she laments as she wraps her hands around the downspout and begins to climb, toes finding footholds in the mortar joints. Leaning over, she catches her window frame and steps carefully over onto the sill, easing up the glass pane as quickly and quietly as she can before tumbling into the room, landing on her bed and tossing her shoes beneath it, then turns to ease the window back down.

Her heart is racing, chest heaving with breath and cheeks flushed with the thrill of it all. She’s just eased herself beneath her blankets when the knock comes, and she calls out an answer to it, readily. 

Sister Mary Alice is the one who opens the door tonight, she’s the youngest of the nuns here, at 53, and smiles at Rey as the light from the hallway fills her tiny room.

“You must have slipped by us coming home tonight,” she says with a smile that Rey returns.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Rey responds with a wink, making Mary Alice laugh.

“Good night, Rey.”

“Good night Sister Mary Alice.”

“Get out your extra blanket, cold is coming,” she advises as she pulls the door shut to shuffle down the hall to the next room.

The city is just beginning to wake as Rey makes her way towards work. Cars amble by on their spindly wheels, spitting and sputtering along. Every so often a horn sounds, sometimes in greeting, sometimes in frustration. Most people prefer to walk, like Rey. It had rained in the night, she had heard it as it spattered against her window, and she hoped it would be gone by sunrise because she had lost her umbrella last week and knew her boss wouldn’t appreciate her turning up looking anything less than put together.

But fortune was on her side, as it seemed to so often be, when she awoke to clear skies in the early morning, the small storm long gone.

With a thermos full of coffee clutched tightly against her chest, Rey now leans against the building at her back and pulls out the folded scrap of newspaper she had salvaged last night before going out. Greedily she reads the poem again and again, it’s beautiful and sad and she doesn’t remember ever being so affected by something she’s read before. She knows the loneliness the author, Kylo Ren, speaks of, can fathom the depths of it because it’s been her companion for so long now.

Her stomach grumbles as she folds it back up along the existing creases and stuffs it back inside her coat. She’s got a sandwich in her pocket, jammed in next to the poem, but that’s lunch, and she tells herself the slice of toast she had before she stepped out into the biting chill of the fall morning was more than enough. She supposes she could run over to the automat before Phasma shows up with the keys. Grab something small and be back across the street with time to spare.

“Good morning Miss Niima,” a voice comes from her right and she turns her head to greet the owner of the voice. Her eyes take him in in an instant. It had only been a handful of hours, but already she had forgotten how tall he was, almost absurdly so. The only person Rey knows who comes close is her boss, Phasma, but Rey is no slouch herself, easily able to look him in the eye in her heeled Mary-Janes. His face looks softer in the early morning light, more friendly, less brooding.

“Mister Solo, fancy seeing you around these parts so early in the day,” she greets, eyes lingering on the briefcase in his hand for a moment as she smiles pleasantly, willing herself to not reach for the watch in her pocket. “And after being such a generous host last night. That was some house party.”

His mouth twitches and his eyes crinkle in a facsimile of a smile, “I’m happy to hear you enjoyed yourself, although I believe some had more fun than others.”

“Oh?” she asks, hoping to hear more.

He opens his mouth twice before clenching his jaw and then settles on saying, “Someone was passed out in my bathroom, and someone else was sleeping under the dining room table.” Rey smiles, amused as she stares across the corner and the man beside her shifts from foot to foot, “Though, I suppose it’s my own fault.”

“Too kind to kick them out?” she asks, glancing back at him to find he had followed her gaze.

“Too many bottles stored at my place,” he grouses and then sighs, “and maybe a bit too kind.” Rey makes a noise of understanding and glances once more at what he’s holding. He straightens immediately with a frown. “It was nice seeing you again, Miss Niima, perhaps I’ll see you again some evening.”

“Perhaps,” she shrugs, eyes lingering on the portly man rounding the corner to unlock the premises catawampus from them before smiling once more at Ben Solo. “Have a nice day,” she says as he begins to stroll away.

He pauses briefly, long enough to turn back towards her, two fingers at his temple for a moment before he waves them in her direction. If he were wearing a hat he probably would have doffed it in farewell. “You as well, Miss. Niima.” And then he’s gone, strolling away down 37th street.

“Was that Ben Solo?” Phasma asks, startling Rey, who hadn’t heard her approach at all.

“Sure was.”

“What did he want?”

“Oh, I’m not sure, said hello.”

“Ben Solo...stopped and said hello?” Phasma dragged the words out, as though it was the most ridiculous thing she had heard.

“Yes. We met last night, he was hosting a house party,” Rey explained, watching Phasma grimace, “what?”

“Nothing, dear,” The statuesque blonde said, waving a hand through the air, “He’s just not the most sociable sort is all, and the work he does…” she trailed off.

“He did have quite the drink selection,” Rey says quietly, stepping closer to the door as Phasma sticks the key in the lock.

“I’d be careful of him Rey. I knew him when we were younger, going away… the war… he’s different now.” Phasma spoke quietly, the words almost pained.

“Ah, well, yes.” Rey says lamely as the door swings open and Phasma ushers her in first. Quickly Rey steps into the shop, placing her coffee thermos down on the counter and shrugging out of her coat, turning to see Phasma doing the same. “I can take your coat to the back if you like,” she offers and Phasma smiles at her in thanks as she hands her coat over.

“Thank you, Rey,” Phasma smiles, then flicks on the lights, flooding the shop with a low glow as the bulbs warm and build to their full brightness. Rey treks around displays and tables of clothes to the backroom where a meager supply of extra stock is stored and carefully leans over a tower of boxes to get to the coat rack.

Stepping back onto the floor of the shop, Rey presses her hands down the front of her skirt before brushing her hands against her hair, making sure nothing had been displaced. Satisfied that she is presentable, she steps over to the counter and pours herself a coffee as she watches Phasma unlock the register and then pull the credit book from the safe beneath the counter.

“We have a few people that should be coming in to pay up on their debts today, let me know when they get in,” Phasma tells Rey sternly, who gives a quick nod, and together they set off straightening up the shop for the day.

He keeps popping up after that, and of course, she finds it curious, but she can’t find it within herself to really ask him about it. For all she knows he’s on a new runner circuit, visiting all the underground speakeasies with his wares.

Some mornings he stops to chat for a moment or two, more often than not, though he gives her a brief nod of greeting as her rounds the corner. Neither one of them ever bring up his missing wristwatch. He gives her a strange look when she tells him about the poem she’s been reading after he’s asked.

He doesn’t host another house party for weeks, but she’s not checking up on his place in the evenings at all —that would be weird.

One morning, he catches her off guard, coming up from the opposite direction, but his voice — quiet, near her ear — makes her jump.

“I’ve noticed you staring a lot, every morning in fact. You have expensive taste, Miss Niima.” She had been staring again, across the corner at the large stone building. She’s never been inside, would probably be escorted from the premises if she tried to enter without being on the arm of a man, but oh, she’s looked inside. Dazzling, beautiful diamonds and gems locked away in cases while beautiful people perused them.

She spins to face him, taking half a step back, to better look him in the eye and smiles easily. She wouldn’t call what they have a friendship, by any means, well, maybe, but it was definitely something. 

Her voice is just as quiet as his had been when she finds it. “Perhaps, I just like pretty things.”

The words seem to catch him off guard and she smiles gently at him. 

He flounders for a bit, and then says, “Indeed.” He looks past her towards Tiffany’s and then back to her, “I find I like pretty things as well. Have a good day, Miss Niima.” He smiles before crossing the street, leaving Rey floundering now in his wake.

She’s so shook up over the encounter she thought she had a handle on that Phasma notices her lack of presence and even Rose makes a comment at dinner that night.

“Rey, sweetie, you have been staring a hole right through Paige’s head all night, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rey lies, shaking her head and scooping up a large bite of mashed potatoes to shove in her mouth.

“It’s a boy,” Paige whispers, leaning across the table as best she can. The other women around titter and Rey rolls her eyes.

“You do look a bit lovelorn,” Rose agrees sagely.

“I do not!” Rey bites out, spearing into her meatloaf with a fork.

“Smitten,” Paige counters and Rey chews furiously wondering how she’s going to make it through the next fifteen minutes. 

“Tell us about him, how’d you two meet?”

“Please stop,” Rey groans, glancing around and finding over half of the other women now neglecting their plates in favor of hearing about Rey’s love life. “There’s no one, it’s just been a long day.”

Rose and Paige share a long look and then sigh in unison. “Okay.”

She confesses everything later, in the privacy of her cramped room.

Ben stops coming by.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s midmorning on a Friday, two weeks later, and Rey is watching the first snowflakes fall outside with a smile on her face when Ben Solo rounds the corner. His shoulders pulled up to his ears and head covered in a grey newsboy hat that matches his suit as he walks into the wind, he’s only scowling a little. A tall red-headed man, dressed identical, save for the black fedora perched atop his own head is keeping pace with him. She only almost drops the shirt she is straightening when the redhead opens the door and they both step into the shop.

“Armitage,” Phasma greets, seeming to appear from nowhere as she floats across the shop floor, “and Ben Solo, what brings you two by, you know, you aren’t our typical clientele, but I’m sure Rey and I can work something out, couldn’t we Rey?”

“More than happy to help!” Rey agrees, now holding up a beautiful dress in periwinkle blue. She doesn’t know this Armitage at all but thinks the color would make his eyes pop.

Phasma, Rey is sure, can tell what’s on the tip of her tongue and fully steps between her and the men.

“What can we do for you?” Phasma asks, and Rey shoves the dress onto a hanger.

When she glances up, it’s to find Ben Solo’s intense gaze fixed firmly upon her. “We have a problem.”

Rey frowns, wondering what the hell she could have done, other than stealing his watch. One day she would give it back to him.

“We have a problem?” Hux growls. “A problem? We have a bloody catastrophe on our hands if we don’t get this sorted.”

“We’ll get it sorted,” Ben brushes him off and Rey wonders if it’s healthy for someone's face to turn that red. “We have some time to —”

Phasma’s hand lifts, cutting Ben off. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” she hisses and then ushers the men into the back room. Rey watches them leave feeling a bit put out and curious about what might be happening. Her mouth drops open in shock when Ben turns back and winks at her.

 _How. Dare. He_. She has half a mind to stalk after them, but the bell rings and Rey now has customers to look after.

They’re back there for ages and she hates it, can’t stop thinking about how cryptic Ben was while she tries to help a mother and daughter find the perfect dress for Christmas Sunday Services.

“I think you look lovely,” Rey enthuses, as the daughter emerges from behind the changing curtain for the third time.

“I agree,” the mother, a Mrs. Quinn, Rey had learned, says, clapping her hands. “What do you think, dear?”

The daughter, Sylvia, simpers, and turns to the mirror. “It’s perfect,” she declares, and Rey wishes she could throw confetti into the air.

Does she rush them to pay and leave the store? Only a little.

“Thank you so much for coming, you ladies have an excellent day,” Rey said, a chipper smile plastered onto her face.

The mother and daughter duo bid her good day with polite smiles and then exit the store, bags in hand as they step out into the snowy New York City streets.

She tidies the store from the visit and tries to keep herself busy and then finally they emerge, looking like harbingers of doom and Rey doesn’t know what happened back there in the dim lighting of the storage room, but it doesn’t look good.

“Rey,” Phasma begins, lips pursed, almost looking like she has eaten a lemon, “Ben will be hosting a house party on Christmas Eve, you’re coming.”

That’s nearly three weeks away. “Well—” Rey begins weakly, but Phasma holds up her hand again, this time cutting her off.

“No excuses, you will be there, tell the nuns you’re spending the holidays with me, I’ll write a note.”

Rey smiles a bit, “Look, Phasma, I love a party as much as the next girl, but that’s really unnecessary, I can get back in after curfew.”

“We need you to stay out all night,” Ben says, and Armitage scoffs while Rey swallows and fights a blush.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Rey watches Armitage pinch the bridge of his nose and huff for a moment, then compose himself. “Solo, for fuck’s sake, just tell the poor girl.”

“I’m not telling her here.”

“You, girl,” Armitage gestures at her with a hand and Rey frowns, cocking her hip and placing a fist on it, to stare unimpressed at him. “We need your help with a delicate problem, and there will be ample benefits in it for you.”

“A girl has a name, and a girl doesn’t like your attitude.”

Hux squawks in outrage and Phasma sighs, “Why don’t I lock up and we discuss this at the automat? It’s almost always deserted at this time of day, and I’m starving.” 

Rey watches in bewilderment and Phasma stalks back through the store and then reemerges with their coats. She’s studiously avoiding looking at the men as she hands Rey’s over.

“Shall we then?” she asks, putting on her hat as Rey winds her scarf around her neck.

Rey flips the sign to ‘Closed’ as they leave and then huddles in the entrance as Phasma locks the doors. 

_They’re a motley looking crew_ , Rey thinks as they cross the snowy streets. Absently she thanks Ben as he holds the door to the automat open.

“Armie, grab that corner booth,” Phasma commands, striding towards the wall of food dispensers. Rey knew she liked Phasma, but now she happily confirms it without a doubt. The redhead grumbles behind them but does as he’s bid. Ben follows them, follows Rey, right to the desserts.

“Do you happen to have the time?” Ben asks, and Rey pauses in depressing the button to frown over at him. “I had a watch, you see, but, it seems some waif stole into my house and left with it.”

“There’s a clock, right over there,” Rey says pointing over his shoulder.

“I know, but my wristwatch, that told time the best.”

“All clocks tell time the same way.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We’ll see.” He hums with a small smirk before hitting the button to grab his own dessert. She picks a chocolate silk pie, he picks a Boston creme pie and Phasma comes to the table with two sandwiches and three desserts.

There’s only one other man in here, all the way on the other side of the restaurant reading a book and absently taking bites of his sandwich as he does. Rey wonders who will talk first as she fiddles with her fork and spins the plate. Phasma slides two plates over towards Armitage, who thanks her with a small smile. The expression is so far removed from what Rey has seen from him for the brief time she's known him that she’s surprised he even knows how to smile.

“The Mona Lisa of Pearls,” Ben whispers, scooting closer to her on the bench and leaning in over the table, arm curling protectively around his plate and dragging it next to hers.

Rey looks over at Ben with a frown. “They were recovered if I recall correctly.”

“Not after they went missing for weeks, and they turned up with the string cut and a few pearls missing.”

“I’d say that might tend to happen if you cut the string.”

“Three of them were sold on the London Underground.”

Rey scoffs at this, “And how could you possibly know that?” There is an odd feeling floating right beneath Rey’s ribcage. Dread maybe, nerves, possibly excitement, as she watches Ben slowly reach into the pocket of his jacket. He withdraws his hand just as slowly and Rey shifts on the bench, rubbing her thighs together, _he’s got really nice hands_.

Her jaw drops as his hand comes back into full display, and there clenched between those long, elegant digits are three blush-pink pearls. Still just as pretty as the last time she had seen them.

“What? Why do you have those?”

Ben turns his wrist back and forth, letting the pearls catch in the incandescent light coming from above them. He makes a quick movement, relaxing his fingers and then twisting his hand to catch the three pearls in his palm.

“My appreciation for beauty, and I had honestly forgotten I had them until just the other day, but I bought them after the war, before I came home. I had been following the story closely, well as close as one could while in the trenches. After all, it isn’t everyday that someone steals something so priceless. And then never gets caught.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Rey agrees and then scoops up a small bite of her cake. “That happened in London, dinnit?”

“Oh, Rey,” Ben sighs, “I think you know.”

“Well sure, was living there when that happened. Papers had a field day with it. Made for a nice change of pace during the war I suppose, lot of gossip too, in the markets. Quite the mystery.”

“More of a mystery why they were returned, wouldn’t you say, Hux?”

“The real mystery here is why we’re dragging this out.” Hux grumbles around a bite of what Rey thinks is an egg salad sandwich.

“Oh, hush, Armie, you know how Ben likes to be dramatic.”

“Please, don’t remind me.”

Ben’s touch startles Rey, who had been focused on the two across from her while they bickered. He eases the fork from her hand and then unfurls her fingers before placing one pearl in the concave center of her palm with his right hand, while his left rests heavy beneath hers.

“The man I bought these from?” Ben began again, dropping the second pearl in there, “very chatty. Horrible, but chatty. Especially if you bought him a few drinks.”

“Oh?” Rey asks, glancing between him and the pearls, and the last one pinched between his index finger and thumb.

“Yes, in the most interesting bar.” Ben drops the third pearl and leisurely pushes them around in her hand, the small orbs warming against her skin with his ministrations. “Told me they would never catch the thief because they were all sniffing in the wrong direction. Looking for an established criminal when they should be looking for his girl. What was it he said?” Ben paused, tilting his head as if thinking about it, hand resting beneath hers beginning to slowly curl around and grip her tightly. “Too much smarts, but not enough sense, I believe it was. He was so proud you see, of his little ray of sunshine. An odd nickname, I thought at the time, but it wasn’t a nickname at all really, I just wasn’t paying attention.”

Rey knows she should maybe try to run away, or at least deny it, but she’s trapped in Ben’s grip and gaze.

“Such a small world, to deliver you here, to me, Rey Niima. Tell me, what happened to Unkar Plutt and his delightful little establishment, Niima Outpost?” 

Rey’s mouth drops open, the urge to deny it, the urge to run so strong, but Ben’s grip is solid and his expression is more curious that accusatory so her mouth snaps shut with the quiet clacking of her teeth. “He died.” Her words are quiet, but far from somber. Unkar Plutt wasn’t the sort anyone would mourn over. “Two years ago, and I came here.” Ben’s grip relaxes and she shifts her hand over, then tips it slightly to deposit the pearls back into his.

“Why?” Hux asks, and Rey turns to look at him. “Why did you return it?”

“I didn’t really want it.” She lifts a shoulder and picks her fork back up to resume eating. “I just wanted to look at it.”

“But you stole part of it.”

“A souvenir.” Rey winks and Phasma grins.

“Oh, I like her. I know I’ve told you before, but I _really_ like her,” she says, stacking her empty plate beneath her dessert one.

Hux inhales sharply through his nose and releases it in one slow breath. “Yes, dear I know.” Phasma pats the back of his hand gently. Rey wonders how that works, they’re so different, but Phasma seems happy, Hux just looks like he’s in a state of having constant bowel distress. 

“What I’m interested in,” Hux begins, “is how you did it.”

“Please, like I would reveal my secrets to you in an _automat_ where anyone could walk by. I don’t think so. Besides, just telling you would be too easy.”

“Rey,” Ben cuts in before Hux can speak again, “we need your help.”

“I — I don’t understand.” Across from her Hux looks unimpressed and Rey rolls her eyes. “No, I misphrased that, I meant to ask _why_.”

“Because we need the best of the best and it’s going to be a two man job,” Ben answers, tucking the pearls back into his pocket.

“What’s the job? And who is my other man?” Rey asks, not liking the look in Ben’s eye now.

She feels like she already knows the events that are going to immediately follow as she watches him spear a bite of his own pie and lift it to his mouth. The word is short, almost clipped, but he manages to sound amused and thoroughly pleased with himself when he says it.

“Me.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to RebelRebel for beta reading this chapter and the ones that came before it!

__~~We are born~~  
_Alone we are born_  
_And die alone_  
_~~See the~~ Yet see the red-gold cirrus_  
_over snow-mountain shine._  
_Upon the upland road_  
_Ride easy, stranger_  
_~~Submit Givve Give in~~_  
_Surrender to the sky_  
_Your heart of anger.*_

_His scar itched; idly, he ran his thumb over it, rubbing just enough to alleviate the odd ache while he frowned down at the page before him. The words that usually came so easily to him seem stuck somehow. He couldn’t stop thinking about her._

_She had come in with the breeze wearing a smile he didn’t often get to see. So many people were too busy eyeing up his scar or feeling some form of pity. The braver ones were curious enough to ask about The Great War; his fellow soldiers eager enough to give a nod and move on._

_At the time he had wondered what she was doing out and about alone and so close to curfew, but after, when most of the guests were gone and he was left staring at the mess that littered his floor, he lifted an arm to check the time and realized. His heart leaped at the bare skin that met his gaze. He supposed he was lucky she didn’t get into too much trouble; he had plenty of things about for her to filch — spoils from his own exploits._

_It had taken running into her the next morning loitering outside of Phasma's for him to he figure out why her name had struck him so. It felt meant to be, that she should come along now, exactly when he needed her most._

_There was something there, vibrating in the air between them and it scared the shit out of him. Him, who had survived a war — who had almost died taking a knife to the face during a trench raid — afraid of her, of the feelings she had stirred in him._

_Running away made the most sense. He took different routes to drop off his wares, told himself he was imagining it when she walked down his street in the evenings, told himself she was better off without him in her life. Told himself he was fine without her. Told himself she was safer this way; none of Snoke’s lackeys would report their fleeting interactions. It was ridiculous; he barely knew her, but somehow he felt like he had known her for years. She read his poems. She liked his poems. He felt like a lovesick fool._

Ben still feels like a lovesick fool here in this automat and he can’t help the smirk that blooms into a full smile as he watches the emotions play across her face after his declaration.

She glances once more across the table at Phasma and Hux, then twists just enough to get eyes on the man across the room. “You?” She asks in disbelief, eyeing him up once more and then, “the job?”

As casually as he can manage he drapes his arm across the back of the booth and scoots closer to her. Her knuckles go white with the grip she has on the fork as he dips his head low. “You can’t wager a guess?” he whispers. “You still remember where I live, yes?” At her nod he continues, “I have a meeting soon but swing by my place around dinner time and we can fill you in on all the details.” He stands from the booth and stares down at her as he redoes the buttons on his jacket, “I trust you’ll be on time.” Then he turns to Hux. “Shall we?”

“Until this evening, my love,” Hux tells Phasma, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she slides from the booth to let him out. With one last wink at Rey, he spins and strides out the doors, Hux hot on his heels.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“What was that just now? Back there? Who are you and what have you done with Ben Solo?”

“That was me, getting the girl we need.”

“You know, you’re a lot of things, Solo, but a good liar isn’t one.” Hux easily keeps pace with him as they trudge through the city streets, the snow turned to slush beneath their feet. “Oh-ho! I can’t believe it! You _like_ her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hux. She _stole_ from me.”

“And isn’t that just the thing? It’s all over your face, you enjoy the fact that she got one over on you. When’s the last time that happened?”

“Never.”

“ _Never_ ,” Hux parrots with glee. “No wonder you’re so hot beneath the collar. I’ve never seen you smitten over anyone before,” he chuckles and Ben eyes him warily, “next you’ll be writing poems.”

Panic spikes through Ben and he casually thrusts his hands into his pockets, relaxing when he touches his notebook, safe and sound where it always is when he’s out. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ben sighs, “you know she’s a good thief.”

“I was only going on your word she was the pearl thief, but her reaction, and what you said about that man, it’s almost hard to believe. What are the odds that she would end up here and steal from _you_ of all people? How many people in this stupid city, and she manages to find the thief almost as notorious as herself.”

“Please.”

“Ben, stealing a necklace and hiding it in your soup while the cops searched your house during a dinner party is one thing. She stole a necklace out of a sealed, unmarked box. Managed to do it without making it look like it had been tampered with _and_ filled the box with sugar cubes. The amount of planning, not to mention _luck_ that went into it. Face it, you’ve met your match. How long will it take you to accept that fact?”

“Drop it. We can discuss this later.”

Hux, looking like he had more to say, wisely snaps his mouth shut. They had arrived.

Striding into Snoke’s Speakeasy they’re greeted with the quiet that lingered in the daylight hours. He’s here though, waiting like a viper in his den. Hux in the lead, they weave their way around tables and chairs to the back room where they knock and wait.

“Enter.” A voice, Snoke, calls to them. Three weeks ago Mitaka would have been here, opening the door to usher them in, but Mitaka is dead now, and after a moment of hesitation, Ben turns the knob and pushes open the door to find their boss waiting.

“You’re late,” he growls, standing from his chair to glower at them.

“Lost my watch,” Ben replies helplessly, flashing his still naked wrist.

“Things ran long over on 45th,” Hux answers more reasonably.

“Let’s get to it then,” Snoke begins, tucking his hands into his pocket and staring at them. “Kylo, supplies are low, and when supplies are low people aren’t happy in my speakeasys, and when people aren’t happy, I’m not happy. Fix it.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to retort that he’s never happy but Ben simply nods, “Of course, the net batch of gin will be ready tonight, and I’ll distribute in the morning.”

“Good. Hux, I had a new detective sniffing around here earlier. We’ll need to move — take care of it.”

“Immediately, sir. We still have the abandoned premises two blocks north, we can move there.” A slow smile spreads on Hux’s face, “I’m sure it won’t take much to get him in our pocket.”

“Perfect, anything of note to report?” The words feel threatening, like they should both know something is up, but Ben glances at Hux, who looks just as clueless. Snoke snarls, swiping an arm across his desk, sending glass tumblers to the ground where they shatter and a few papers drift down to settle on the pieces. A bottle of gin teeters precariously for a moment before Snoke snatches it up and hurls it at the wall to his left where it explodes against the wood.

The blood rushes loud in Ben’s ears and he can see Snoke yelling, watches his face turn nearly purple as a vein throbs in the center of his forehead, but he can’t hear anything over the roaring of sound that only exists in his mind. He takes deep breaths as surreptitiously as he can until his body doesn’t feel as quite on edge. Snoke’s voice cuts in again.

“—told you two to make sure Mitaka was never found, but guess who washed up on the banks of the Hudson this morning? Fix. It.” He punctuates the last two words with jabs to his desk using his index finger, lip curling in disdain. “Get out of my sight.”

Hux has to steer him from the building and Ben lets himself be lead down the block; a safe distance.

Hux eyes him as he stumbles to the closest stoop and sinks heavily onto it, resting his forehead in his hands and breathing deeply. “Ben—” Hux begins, but Ben shakes his head.

“I just need a minute.”

“Maybe we should cancel tonight,” he offers and Ben glances up at him between his arms. 

“We don’t have time to reschedule. We’ve only got a few weeks to pull this off. A day less isn’t ideal, we’ve already waited too long. It never should have come to this.”

“You’re right,” Hux concedes with a sigh, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair then putting it back on. “Let’s get you home, then I have to go visit Canady.”

“He’s going to be less than pleased about the move,” Ben says, taking Hux’s hand for leverage to stand.

“Don’t I know it,” Hux says wryly, “I do believe that is his constant state of being ‘less than pleased.’ I’ve never seen the man smile, have you?”

Ben’s lips twist as he shakes his head and both men chuckle. “I’ll see you tonight,” Ben says as they round the corner to his street.

“Ben—“

“I know. Thank you, for earlier. I’ll be fine.”

Hux rocks on his feet, hands in his pockets as he stares at Ben. “No canoodling on the first date, Ben,” he teases.

Ben gapes at him before growling, “It’s not a—“ he inhales sharply through his nose and then exhales slowly before continuing in a calmer manner. “It’s not a date, it’s a business meeting, and I don’t _canoodle_.”

Hux has the nerve to only lift a brow at him, “We’ll see.” Then he’s jogging across the intersection to head a few blocks uptown to visit Canady while Ben turns and makes his way up the street to his home.

_Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week,_  
_And people in whose voice real feeling rings_  
_Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things.**_

Rey shows up right on time, and Ben feels a flutter of something in his gut — nerves, anticipation, hope maybe — as he swings the door wide and ushers her in.

“Can I take your coat?” he asks with a slow smile. He delights in the blush that blooms across her cheeks.

“I suppose this time you may.” She hands it over with a flourish and a smile and then steps further into his home.

“Phasma and Hux should be here soon,” he speaks into the silence as he hangs her coat and watches her cut a path right to the art displayed on the walls. If she seems ill at ease over it only being the two of them, she doesn’t show it.

“You have a lovely home,” she says softly, taking in the closest painting. “Are these all _yours_?” she asks, glancing back at him.

He laughs quietly and steps closer to her, “No, I can’t take credit for any of these, these came here by honest means and a fat wallet. My mother is a collector. Always has been for as long as I can remember.” He can feel Rey’s eyes on him as she studies his profile and he points next to her. “The one, a Monet, is her favorite, she saw it once on display and had to have it. She claims to have haggled with him for hours. No one ever says no to my mother.”

Rey tilts her head and takes a step back from the wall. “This is her house then?”

“Yes, but it’s been years since she’s been back here.” He takes a moment to gather himself, “she insisted on it, after the war, after…” he gestures at his face and Rey nods, “she stuck around long enough to be sure I would be fine, and then left, off to Europe to meet up with my father.”

“You grew up rich,” Rey says slowly, and Ben says nothing to deny it. “Yet you lead a most interesting life. By all accounts, one could reason with an upbringing like yours you might have ended up a lawyer or a doctor or something equally impressive. What does your father do?”

“Business,” he evades and Rey waves a hand and sits on the couch.

“See? The world at your feet and you’re here in this nice house planning to steal and spend your days as a bootlegger.”

“The world at my feet, yet a war came to my door and I felt I would be useful there.”

Rey crosses her legs as she turns to frown at him where he lingers on the far end of the couch, standing stiffly by the arm. “Be that as it may, you’ve been stealing things for a long time. Why?”

“So many personal questions tonight, Rey,” he teases, but continues with a sigh, “you’re right though, I’ve stolen a lot. When I was younger it was my way of trying to get my parent’s attention, but it was _fun_.” She nods in agreement and he sits down on the couch. “It became a game, not _if_ — because I certainly knew I could get it — but how much. Then, not getting caught. I’ve stolen the jewels of kings and the wallets of businessmen. It doesn’t matter what it is, there’s still that rush, and I find I am weak to its call.”

Ben turns to find Rey staring at him, eyes bright and looking like she could spring to her feet at any moment. Her lips part with a smile and she nods, “I know exactly what you mean, well, _most_ of it,” she huffs with a laugh. “I started stealing to survive, bits of food, small change, but I was good at it, and I got better at it and then Plutt found me. I had a roof over my head and food and I didn’t always mind doing jobs for him, it kept me away from him for the most part. It started being fun around then. When he died, I needed to start all over again. I was nobody. Literally. It was as if I didn’t exist. So I came to New York, and I tried to be good, but…” she wiggles her fingers in the air and Ben can’t stop the smile that finds its way onto his face.

A knock on the door sounds and he rises, “That will be Phasma and Hux.” Rey stands with a smile and follows him to the door.

“Sorry we’re late,” Hux grumbles, pushing past Ben into the house. “We had to go back to the shop to pick this up,” and he shoves a folder against Ben’s chest before taking off his coat.

“Good evening, Ben, Rey,” Phasma says with a smile, breezing in with all of the grace Hux lacks. Her coat is a gorgeous fur thing and Ben watches Rey eye it up before focusing on what he’s now holding.

“All in good time, Rey,” he informs her with a smile which makes her scowl as he takes her arm and leads her into the dining room where dinner is waiting, kept warm beneath ceramic lids.

Ben doesn’t cook beyond the necessities to keep himself alive, but his mother kept a chef on staff regardless and they outdid themselves for this casual meal. Roasted beef, mashed potatoes with a generous side of gravy, as well as radish roses, rice croquettes, and a little dish filled with pickles and olives. One by one Ben removes the lids from the hot dishes and sets them neatly on the buffet off to the side of the room once his guests are seated.

“And of course,” he says, sitting down at the head of the table, “cherry pie for dessert.”

“Always nice to see you putting Leia’s chef to good use, Ben,” Phasma teases, leaning in with her plate to place a bit of everything on it.

Hux nods, and picks up a few croquettes and places them on Rey’s plate. “Yes, a proper dinner party instead of a house party. It’s always a delight when we can enjoy some of Artiee’s cooking.”

“You’re welcome to come by any time,” Ben grins, waiting for the ladies to finish getting their food before he gets his own.

“So, Rey,” Hux begins, not wasting any time, “tell us about the pearls.”

Ben watches as Rey pauses, fork halfway to her mouth before continuing and then sitting back in her chair. “Sure. It was a beautiful necklace,” she sighs, eyes staring just over Hux’s shoulder, expression wistful, “Sixty-one flawless, blush-pink pearls. It had been sent to Paris for a potential buyer to look at it, but they decided they didn’t want it, so home it went. By post.”

“How did you do it? Why the sugar cubes?”

“The sugar cubes were put on a string; it weighed as much as the necklace,” she scoffs and reaches for her drink, “I couldn’t send an empty box on to the owner.”

“You gave it back.”

“Wouldn’t you? It was a famous necklace, people were looking for it. Granted they were looking in the wrong places, but they were still looking. Easier to cut your losses than getting caught.”

“What else have you stolen?”

“All sorts of things. Mostly jewelry, loose gems when I could, wallets, watches,” she glances at Ben with a smile at this, “A dog once.”

“A dog?” Phasma asks and Rey nods with a smile. “Tell me at work,” she urges when she catches Ben’s intense stare. “By all means, Solo, show us what we’re all here for.”

With a quick nod, Ben flips through the folder for a moment and finally pulls out what he needs. “This,” he says, slapping the grainy photograph down onto the table in the space between them, “is what we’re after.”

Rey begins laughing and Ben frowns, “Surely you cannot be serious.”

“I am.” He turns the photo and pushes it towards her; Hux and Phasma tense and waiting. Rey sobers and with deft fingers, picks up his offering.

“A few years ago the French monarchy offloaded _all_ of their jewels. Crowns, broaches, necklaces, rings — you name it, they sold it. A few years ago, smelling the opportunity of a lifetime, Tiffany purchased up a lot of them. Now, you would think a smart businessman like that would turn around and sell them, right? Wrong. For whatever reason he’s kept them, locked in two safes. One in the basement with the majority of his diamonds, the other, on the third floor where the crafting happens.”

“Right, so which one are you going after?” Rey says after a moment.

“Both.”

“Both? You’re absolutely mad!”

Hux coughs into his hand and Ben shoots him a glare. 

“One safe is ambitious enough, but two? It will be a miracle if we don’t get caught.” Rey points out, pushing the picture back towards him.

“Normally, I would agree. However, at Christmas time they drop the night guard down to one.”

“You’re joking.”

“Oh, Rey,” Phasma cuts in, “Ben doesn’t joke.”

“A genuine stick in the mud.” Hux agrees with a nod, toasting Ben with a mug of coffee.

Ben scowls at them both before his eyes swing back around to Rey, who is smiling. “Why?”

“Because that’s ridiculous,” she huffs, drumming her fingers on the table top. “This is... _a lot_ to steal for fun, so what’s the catch?”

“Snoke.”

“Gesundheit?” Rey frowns, and across from her, Phasma snorts into her coffee.

“No, Snoke is a person, our boss, actually,” Hux cuts in, “real nasty piece of work.”

“So we are...stealing this _for_ him?”

“No. We’re stealing this, then framing him for it.” Again Ben watches the emotions play across her face, and he takes a long drink of coffee to hide his smile.

Smug satisfaction. He likes the way it looks on her.

“When do we start?”
    
    
      _I am alive I am alive I am_  
    
    _You’d seen your own death      She was a girl_  
    
    _like me     She was falling    She was flying***_
    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*James K Baxter, "High Country Weather”_   
>  _** Wilfred Owen, “Smile, Smile, Smile”_   
>  _***Jennifer Givhan, from “Lifeline,” Girl with Death Mask_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I am...not a poet and would like to thank meritmut, and the lovely ladies in the RFFA for helping me source poems that Ben might write.
> 
> Notes...I have a lot - feel free to skip them if you want, I just like sharing the fun things I've learned along the way.
> 
> Wilfred Owen _was_ a WWI poet, he wrote his poems about the war, but most of his work didn't get published until after his death. And even though Ben turned to poetry after the war I thought it might be nice to reference the work of someone who fought in it.
> 
>  _YES_ the French Crown Jewels were sold _(removed from the Louvre to be sold)_ \- at auction in 1887 - and yes, Tiffany purchased several pieces, at least one of the pieces he purchased is now back in the Louvre, I don't know what he did with the rest, but it certainly wasn't keeping them locked up in a safe or two inside of his building for several years. _fiction is fun_
> 
> I think the very last thing is that the notable thieving exploits of Rey and Ben are both based on the same person, Joseph Grizzard. Who absolutely stole those pearls (and got caught), and invited police into his home during a dinner party to let them search for a stolen necklace, he reportedly pulled it from his soup after they left and laughed about it. He was also super rich and stole stuff for the fun of it, and by many accounts a decent guy and very well liked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! It's been a while, but we're in the home stretch.
> 
> Many, many thanks to [RebelRebel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelRebel/pseuds/RebelRebel) for the beta!

It turns out ‘when do we start’ is immediately after dinner. Blueprints are spread out and routes are mapped and plans get made. Christmas Eve is approaching quickly, they have little time to waste. She begins spending all of her evenings out, and can see the suspicion on the Sister’s faces every time she darts through the gates and doors near curfew every night. Rose and Page are more excited, begging for details about her beau over breakfast. 

_Why doesn’t he ever drop you off, Rey? When can we meet him, Rey? You really see him every night, Rey? Bring him dancing!_

Rey isn’t even sure Ben _dances_ , but she evades their questions with relative ease, mostly because she doesn’t actually have a _beau_ , just a partner for a future crime.

“This isn’t going to work,” Rey observes, watching Ben fiddle with the safe in the middle of his bed. 

“It will, you just need to be patient.”

“I am, you, however, are not.” Ben huffs and shifts on the mattress before trying again, pressing his ear up against the metal door.

Rey isn’t entirely sure why she’s here, but she had agreed to come over after work again tonight, however, if she knew it was going to be a terrible safe cracking lesson, she would have skipped. It was the same model as the ones they would be opening at Tiffany’s. Rey’s dealt with them before, but clearly, Ben is new to them. Or he just lacks the proficiency for traditional lockpicking. The thought makes her smile.

“You should be doing this on a solid surface,” she tsks, bracing her hands on his dresser and leaning back against it, crossing her legs at the ankles and staring at the hem of her skirt instead of watching him struggle more.

“Yes, well, I can’t do this downstairs at the moment, can I?” he grunts and Rey snorts. He’s ‘hosting’ another house party tonight, and the raucous laughter, clinking glasses and jaunty tunes are easily heard where they are, secreted away in his room.

“Put it here!” she offers, knocking at the dresser, “or the floor?” she grins when he glances up at her with a frown. “Come on, you aren’t that old,” she laughs, watching him huff and make a show out of settling it on the floor.

“So how was work?” he asks after a boisterous round of laughter sounds.

“Work was work,” she tells him, moving around the safe to sit next to him. “You?”

“Snoke is being even more paranoid than usual. He keeps disappearing, doing who knows what, but it will work better this way. All of that unaccounted for time.”

She hums, watching his long fingers deftly spin the tumbler round and round then back again. “Can I-” she starts, watching him pause, “can I ask you a question?”

“Does the one you just asked count?” He teases, waving at her to continue as he resumes his work.

“Kylo Ren,” she begins, hesitating when his shoulders tense dramatically. “Ben, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“No,” he bites out immediately, and Rey shuffles closer, placing a hand gently over his.

“Ben.”

He sighs, defeated. “How?” Is all he says, staring hard at the safe.

“I didn’t really, not until last week when you said something about the heart of anger, and it seemed familiar to me, and it was only after I got home that I remembered I had read it. So then I went digging through your poems-“

“You keep my poems?” He interrupts, finally turning to face her, expression full of surprise and wonder.

“Of course, I enjoy them very much. I find them relatable.” His brow furrows at this and she smiles, “I was only curious as to why you don’t use your real name.”

He scoffs, then shifts to lean back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him, and his ankle brushes Rey’s knee and he mumbles an apology before moving slightly away from her.

“After the war,” he starts, “Sorry, I don’t ever really talk about this.”

“You don’t have to,” Rey is quick to offer him an out, but he shakes his head. From downstairs the music grows in volume.

“There was, _is_ , a lot of guilt, a lot of frustration. I never expected to come home alive.” He lets the statement settle around them and Rey wants to reach out and touch him, offer a modicum of comfort, but he’s got his fingers twisted up, and he still isn’t even looking at her. “Obviously, I did. Barely.” He gestures at the scar that runs down his face. “I did a lot of laying around, I had a lot of time to think, but I’m not good with words, saying the right thing. So I started writing because I couldn’t get the anger out the way my body wanted desperately to do. I was stuck in a bed when I still wanted to fight. I barely even fought over there. It was just a lot of sitting and waiting and digging and waiting and cold and noise and more waiting and walking. But I felt like I _should have_.”

Rey nods, if only to show him that she’s still there with him, still listening, and his head tips back onto the bed. “My first poems were shit, if I’m being honest. My mom told me they were lovely,” he snorts here and Rey smiles, “but I kept writing, I filled notebooks and when I finally felt brave enough I sent one off to the paper. Then they started asking for poems, and by that point, I had already met Snoke, got roped into his bootlegging scheme, and now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Rey echoes softly. Ben jolts, almost as if he had forgotten she was here with him. He hasn’t really answered her question, but it was more answer than she expected to get, so with deliberate slowness she reaches to the safe. His mouth quirks in amusement and it's the work of a few moments and steady breaths before she hears it click gently, and she turns the handle to open it. The satisfaction over seeing his shock is like a warm embrace that wraps around her.

“How?” He asks, leaning forward now.

“Touch mostly, but a bit of listening. I told you. You’re too impatient. You have to take your time, but not too much. Here.” She shuts the safe and spins the tumbler, then reaches for Ben’s hand. “If you can crack this one with the distractions from downstairs messing with your ability to hear, you’ll be fine once we’re in.” She turns her head just enough to look at him, “and don’t press your face up against it, that’s not necessary. _Feel_.” she whispers, beginning to spin the tumbler beneath his fingers. 

“There,” she says when she feels the light catch, “did you feel that?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now try the next one.” 

He gets it on the second try. And he lets out a whoop of victory when he opens the safe on his own. 

The kiss catches her off guard.

She thinks, perhaps he was aiming for her cheek, but she turns enough that he catches the corner of her mouth. 

“Oh!” she exclaims quietly, while he rushes to apologize. “It’s okay,” she assures him, she can feel her cheeks warm with a blush, sees it reflected in his own complexion. They go back to practicing.

 

A week and a half until Christmas Eve, and they have gone over and over the plan, and then over it yet again, but today is an important day, and an important step in their plans.

She pulls her favorite dark green dress from her itty bitty closet and tosses it over the end of her bed, while she fishes around in her cedar chest for a fresh set of tap pants and a bra. Slides into the garments with practiced ease before rolling on her stockings and garter belt.

Today is the day she would be posing as Ben Solo’s girlfriend turned fiance. They need to find the perfect ring. 

With only mild grumbling, she wrestles her hair into a folded-under faux bob and then dons her cloche hat, newly decorated for the season with a hat pin Phasma had given her last week for this specific occasion. She’s almost sure there will be words over her dress choice, but Rey likes the way she looks in the green, and it isn’t as though Phasma can’t completely change her wardrobe once she gets to the shop.

She gives the girls a finger wave as she passes the dining room, too nervous to eat, and is out the front door. It’s windy and cold, and she pulls her coat tighter around her and lifts the collar to better protect her. Her teeth are chattering when she finally rounds the corner and catches sight of Phasma’s shop. The lights are already on inside, so she quickens her pace, already looking forward to the warmth that awaits her.

“You’re late,” Hux greets as she steps through the door. Rey only rolls her eyes at the man, he isn’t technically her boss, just Phasma’s husband.

“Am not,” she grumbles, shrugging out of her coat. 

“That’s never going to do,” Phasma declares, striding into the shop from the back. Rey can barely make a noise of protest before she’s shoved behind a changing curtain with a stunning navy frock. She’d have to save every penny for months to afford it.

She slinks out from behind the curtain and is immediately accosted by Phasma once more, standing still as she finds the right scarf and wraps her up in a warm coat.

“There,” she says, stepping back, “pretty as a picture, what do we think boys?”

“She looks acceptable,” Hux drawls, barely glancing at her.

“Perfect,” Ben breathes, and Rey brushes nonexistent stray wisps of hair beneath her hat.

“Right,” Phasma says into the surprised quiet that fills the room, “Armitage, come with me, I need your help rearranging the racks at the back, you two, go get shopping.”

Rey watches with a smile as Phasma grabs a confused Armitage by the hand and drags him towards the back of the small store. Enough to give them the illusion of privacy with the racks of blouses and sweaters and skirts separating them.

When she looks back at Ben, he’s putting his cap back on, complexion flushed. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat, standing up straighter, “are you ready?”

She pulls her coat tighter around herself and nods, stepping closer to him, “are you?”

“Of course.” He opens the door for her and she has the sudden urge to take his hand, so she does. It startles him; she can feel his entire body jolt with the contact. 

“I’m nervous,” she confesses as they walk to the corner to cross the street. “I’ve never cased a place so thoroughly.” A half-truth.

He relaxes with a laugh and squeezes her hand. _Do you feel it too_ , her brain screams at him, thinking yet again about how soft his lips had been on hers that one time. She feels like an actor in a play, here to play her part and then they’ll all move on without her. One day this will be over and she’s so bloody nervous over that more than anything.

It’s nearly overwhelming inside, and she has half a mind to turn tail and call off the whole thing, but Ben’s hand lands gently on her lower back, warm and reassuring.

“All right, Niima?” He asks in a sotto voice by her ear.

“Fine,” she affirms, turning to smile up at him as a clerk approaches.

“Welcome to Tiffany’s,” he greets, smile stretched wide and Rey steps closer to Ben, tucking herself neatly against his body.

“Hello,” Ben greets, reaching out to shake the man's hand.

“What brings you two in today?” he asks, taking them in with gleaming eyes.

“We’re getting married!” Rey exclaims in her best New York accent, throwing her arms around Ben’s middle, “And this guy, god I love him, but he just couldn’t wait to ask me. Of course I said _yes_ even without a ring, how could I not? I mean, just look at that face, it shouldn’t be legal to be that good looking and smart to boot!” Ben’s grip on her waist shifts to pinch her and she laughs. “I’m so sorry! I could just go on and on and _on_ about him, but I’m sure you don’t care about all that!”

The sales clerk’s expression hasn’t shifted, but his eyes _have_ grown wider as she rambles on. “Not at all!” he offers, recovering quickly, “we’re honored you chose us to help show off your love. We are after all the number one choice for the discerning brides-to-be and nervous soon to be fiance’s.” Rey laughs again, because it seems like the intent was to be teasingly humorous and the clerk beams.

“If you’ll follow me,” he leads, “At Tiffany’s, we specialize in making a statement, the diamond of course, but also, we want _you_ to shine, my dear. Simple band, stunning solitaire diamond, meticulously cut and set to dazzle from all angles and compliment you. If the two of you see nothing to your satisfaction, we are _more_ than happy to craft what you like, but it will involve a wait.”

“Thank you,” Ben says quietly in the silence that falls, “where would you like to start, love?” he asks Rey, leaning over her shoulder to peer into the glass cases.

“Oh, I don’t know, they’re all so gorgeous,” she titters, taking in the rings displayed beneath them.

“Take your time, it’s an important decision,” the clerk offers, the front door opening again. “If you will excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

“Of course,” Ben shifts beside Rey as she makes a show of leaning down close to the display case. “Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?” he asks when the clerk finally steps out of earshot.

Rey snorts, standing up and tapping her nails on the glass, “Maybe,” she turns enough to take in his profile, “but all of it was true.” His mouth snaps shut on whatever else he had planned on saying next, and Rey feels the thrill of victory flare through her before remembering she had said she loved him. 

Ah.

Shit.

She looks away from him then, leaving him to studiously stare down at the rings displayed beneath them, while she takes notice of everything else. A beautiful display of lamps decorates the far wall of the store, but then Ben shifts. She glances back over at him with the movement, and she gasps.

“What?” he asked, expression shuttered.

“Ben.”

“Yes?”

“Look at that,” she whispers, voice filled with reverence. There, proudly displayed in its own case is the largest diamond she’s sure she’s ever seen. A fascinating shade of yellow with a tiny matching jeweled bird perched on top. Her palms begin to sweat.

“No,” Ben hisses, “no, absolutely not, Rey.”

“I know,” she sucks a corner of her lower lip between her teeth and worries it. “It’s just pretty,” the opposite corner of her mouth twitches into a smile when she looks back at Ben, who is clearly fighting a smile of his own.

Rey counts two doors, one tucked into a corner, the other along the center of the wall, a shiny silver plaque that reads ‘staff only’ adorning it. She knows what lies on the other side, but feels relief at knowing the blueprints weren’t misleading. 

They can do this. They’re _going_ to do this. In ten days.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upped the chapter count - next chapter will be an epilogue.
> 
> A million and one thanks to [rebelrebel ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelRebel/pseuds/RebelRebel)for beta reading and cheering me on.
> 
> In which we finally earn the rating it’s had from the beginning.

“Ready?” she asks, standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the alley as they stare at the door.

“Ready.”

A deep breath, then she reaches beneath her hat and withdraws her pins before kneeling at the door. Eight seconds, a new record. Her palms are sweating already, and despite how quickly she has unlocked the door, she still feels like it was too slow. If any of their timing is off tonight, they’re toast.

“Rey,” Ben whispers, closing the door as silently as possible behind him. She turns back, pushing back the too-large hat that’s fallen forward into her face. “Good luck.”

“Don’t need luck when you’ve got skill on your side,” she quips with a grin. They stand there, wasting precious moments staring at one another, and then she darts forward, presses a kiss at the corner of his mouth, much like he had to her two weeks ago, and then bolts up the stairs, not waiting for his reaction. _Later_ , she tells herself as she moves.

All the way up, to the very top floor, and then she is turning the handle, pressing the door in and listening. Nothing. Stepping fully into the room, she shuts the door carefully and then is stepping out of her borrowed shoes, stockinged feet on the cool wood of the floor. She blinks, sight adjusting from the near darkness of the stairwell to the hazy light that filters in from the streetlamps outside, far below. Rows of work tables stand tall around the room, decorated with tools and lamps and diamonds. She stalks towards one, running fingertips over the corner, then up across the surface, touching a pair of tweezers, leaning in to gaze at the diamond that was in the process of being meticulously cut to standard.

The trust they had here, to leave it so unsecured. 

Time. She has so little of it. There’s a small office, tucked away in the back corner. That’s where the safe is. She makes her way there. Unlocked. She shuts it behind her, places the shoes under the desk and kneels on the floor in front of the safe. Deep breaths. Her hand is shaking, and she wriggles her whole body to help displace the incoming jitters. This was easy. Child’s play. Her fingers curl around the dial and she exhales. She spins carelessly, but deliberately, giving it two full rotations until she tries. 82. Then back around one full rotation to the right and onto the next number. It catches at 39, she feels it but knows she misses it. She starts over. 82-39- Exhale. 15. Her left hand tries twisting the bar, and a wave of giddy excitement climbs up the back of her throat as it gives. 

She’s in.

Oh, is she in.

Even in the barely-there light everything is shining. “Oh, hello,” she whispers, pulling off her hat as her hand reaches for a diadem. It’s _definitely_ not on the list, but it’s _pretty_ and just once…

She lifts it and carefully places it on her head. It’s light, but she feels the weight of it, knows she shouldn’t be wearing it, but she replaces the hat and moves on. She puts everything wearable on, then reaches for her shoes, pulling out the newspapers to wrap loose gems up before shoving them back inside. She puts a second necklace in her coat pocket and closes the safe.

Footsteps sound and then the doorknob rattles. As stealthily as she can, she presses herself beneath the desk, sliding the chair back into place just as it opens. The beam of a flashlight crosses over the back wall of the room, then sweeps over the room again before disappearing, door closing loudly behind the guard. 

Perfect.

Moving carefully, she gets out from beneath the desk, rights the chair once more and moves to the door. Through the dappled glass pane, she can see the bobbing beam of the guard’s light as he casually strolls across the floor. Once he’s through the door to the stairwell she counts to thirty before leaving the room, tiptoeing back across the workshop and cracking open the door. Nothing. The door closes almost silently behind her and then she’s rushing down the stairs to find Ben. 

“Shit,” she curses in a whisper as she opens the basement door, hearing the one several floors above open once more. They knew the guard would be lazy, but not this lazy. She holds the door open until she hears him open and shut the one on the second floor. 

The basement is a maze. And dark, but she knows it, has memorized its layout. At least in theory. She bumps into the corner of a wall, gasps in pain, then stills. No noise. She moves deeper into the basement until she finds where Ben should be.

“Ben,” she whispers when she spots his large form in the dark, so as to startle him as little possible. He still tenses for the briefest of moments before relaxing. 

“Done already?” he asks back, and she hums the affirmative. “Excellent, just finishing up here.” She listens to the sounds of things falling into his pockets and then freezes when the safe closes with a heavy thud. 

From the other end of the basement, they hear the door creak open and then slam shut. 

“Shit.” Ben stands and takes her hand as the sound of footsteps approach. Rey spins, the opposite direction from the guard and tugs at Ben. He follows and the narrow beam of the guard’s light chases them as they round a corner. Ben swears again but they don’t stop. Can’t stop. She circles them back around so they’re headed in the direction of the door — and towards the only sliver of safety she can think of.

“Shh!” She hisses, ducking into a narrow alcove and pulling Ben in with her. It’s only once they’re pressed tightly together inside that she realizes this may not have been her best idea.

They’re going to get caught and go to jail, and the papers will have a field day. She has never been this close to being caught, ever, and she stole the watch right off of Ben Solo’s wrist. She strains to listen for the night guard, keeping her breathing quiet. Ben shifts against her and she moves to accommodate him, sliding between his spread legs and tucking into his chest as he pushes them further in.

“Sorry,” he breathes against her hair and she merely nods against his woolen jacket, tensing when she finally hears the footsteps again. Shallow, steady breaths in, and out, and he will be gone soon. Ben’s hand settles at her waist and grips her hard. He’s shaking.

They’re definitely going to get caught. Two people crammed into a space that should be empty, there’s no way the night guard won’t catch them. His shoes are slightly squeaky, Rey notices. She smothers a laugh by clenching her teeth tight around Ben’s lapel, body shuddering with the laughter. 

“Rey,” Ben gasps, a quiet inhale, loud in the small space. “Don’t.”

He shifts again and Rey freezes. Well, that’s an unexpected problem. The logical part of Rey’s brain tells her to ignore it, compartmentalize, deal with it later, no matter how it fills her with hope that maybe, _just maybe_ , but the wicked part of her brain is a traitor of the highest order. Slowly unclenching her jaw, she tilts her head back to rest against the wall to find Ben staring down at her. It’s dark in here, but not so dark now that they can’t see. With a slow smile, she gently rolls her hips against his and his grip goes nearly bruisingly tight at her hip for a moment before he relaxes.

The footsteps are fading away. Soon they will be at the end of the hall and turning a corner to check the upper levels once again.

“Rey,” Ben’s voice is low now, a warning, and she complies, relaxing against the wall as best she can, barely touching him now.

“Fifteen count, and then we go.” Rey has no idea how he’s concentrating with the situation in his pants, but she nods in agreement as he begins a whispered count. At one, he grabs her hand and pulls her from the alcove and back the way they had come, towards their exit into the alley. 

They stumble out into the freezing night air and Rey spins back to watch Ben carefully, quietly, shut the door behind them. There is a moment where everything is suspended in time. Both of Ben’s hands bracing the door, and Rey, standing breathless two feet behind him, feeling elated.

Ben spins suddenly and Rey smirks up at him as he advances on her.

“We shouldn’t linger,” she whispers, swaying towards him despite her words.

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice a low rumbling timbre that has her trembling, “but before we go,” his warm palms rise to cup her cheeks, thumbs brushing the corners of her lips before his mouth meets hers, urgent and desperate. Rey’s fingers twist into the wool of his coat, pulling him closer as she presses up towards him in her too-large shoes.

Ben makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat when she opens her mouth to him, tongue teasing the seam of her lips before meeting her own.

Rey huffs out an amused breath against him when his fingers trace a path beneath the hat she’s wearing and pauses.

“What?” he asks, only pulling far enough away to breathe the question against her mouth. Rey takes the opportunity to step out of his embrace. 

“We should go,” she urges, pulling his hands down into hers, “I’ll show you when we’re safe.”

Ben blinks and looks around at the narrow alley they’re sequestered away in, then tips his head back at the falling snow.

“The sooner the better,” his hands squeeze hers before letting her go and sneaking towards the end of the alley, peering out at the street. “Coast is clear,” he informs her, reaching a hand back for hers.

“I’d hope so,” Rey teases, grasping him, greedy for his touch when he offers it so freely, “it’s after 2 AM.”

“We’re lucky it’s only just starting to snow again, the sidewalks are still clear here, so once we’re out we’ll be hard to follow.”

“Do you think the cops are still occupied?”

“Do you really want to run to the other end to check? I trust Phasma and Hux with my life — you have no idea the dramatics Phas can pull. They’ll still be there.” 

Rey can hear the amusement in his voice and she nods, “Then let’s get out of here, I’m getting itchy just standing still.”

Ben releases her hand and steps out onto the street, then darts over to the far sidewalk. Rey stalks after him, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her borrowed coat and doing her best to imitate the swaggering walk of a man.

They keep their pace casual, but every time they reach a street corner they’re both checking to see if they were followed. It takes twice as long as usual to return to Ben’s home with the circuitous route they take, and the snow is really starting to fall when they stomp up the steps. Rey bounces on her toes a bit as she waits for him to unlock the door. 

He pushes it open and gestures for her to enter first before following behind her, closing and locking it back up in quick order. Then he lights the small gas lamp on the table near them as Rey’s cold fingers began to fumble with the buttons on her coat.

“Here, let me,” Ben says, stepping into her space and covering her hands with his own. “You’re freezing,” he mutters, and Rey hums in agreement, letting him take over for her as she toes off her shoes.

Once the coat is undone Ben shifts his hands, burying them beneath the heavy fabric to grip her waist and pull her closer.

“Where do you want everything?” she whispers, hands slowly reaching up towards her hat.

“Upstairs, my room,” he murmurs, eyes tracking her movements as she carefully grips the brim and eases it up, off of her head. Ben’s jaw drops. “You cheeky minx,” he chuckles, one hand breaking free from her to reach up as she tosses the hat aside. 

“I don’t believe we agreed to take this,” he muses, still quiet as his fingertips trace over the diamonds, then down to the emerald at the center of the diadem.

“It was pretty,” Rey teases and Ben’s expression turns serious.

“You’re right, of course, such a pretty piece.” Carefully, he adjusts it on her head so it’s seated properly. “And this?” he asks with a smile. The hand still settled at her waist drifts up her shirt to reveal a stunning collar formed by four brilliant necklaces of diamonds.

“I thought...of all the pieces it would be missed the most.”

Ben quirks a brow at this and Rey watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “You might be onto something,” he agrees, “now, come on, let’s get upstairs and get these things safely stored until I can get them to Snoke’s in the morning.” Ben reaches back down and takes her hand, tugging her forward towards the stairs.

“Wait!” she cries, “the shoes.”

“The shoes?” Ben arches a brow and Rey nods, bending down to scoop them up as Ben reached for the small lamp.

“Okay,” she breathes, “now we can go.”

The short journey up the stairs is silent but charged with anticipation and when Ben closes his bedroom door behind them Rey holds her breath, waiting to see what comes next.

“Show me, please,” he requests. 

She pulls the necklace from the pocket of the coat, then shrugs out of it, letting it pool at her feet. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she says, holding the necklace out by the tips of her fingers. The gems catch the light in his room, refracting back onto the walls in a burst of color. 

Ben nods quickly, then reaches deep into his own coat pockets to pull out his haul. Carelessly she reaches into the shoes, pulling out the newspapers and raining diamonds down onto his bed. Ben adds his own to the growing pile, coming up behind her.

“Please tell me I can kiss you again.” His voice is a low rumble and she shudders as dexterous fingers begin finding the pins keeping her hair up.

“Yes,” she breathes, feeling it loosen and then fall down around her shoulders. Ben cards his fingers through it then tightens his grip, turning her head to kiss her again. He tastes like victory and she can’t stop smiling against his mouth. She turns in his arms, he’s free of his coat, but still wearing his jacket, so she presses her hands against the soft fabric of his shirt and his hands find her waist again. She gets caught beneath his suspenders, and playfully snaps one gently over his chest.

“Ben.” It’s muffled against his lips and he pulls back, eyes hooded and breathing deep. She doesn’t know how to articulate exactly what she wants and needs now that the adrenaline of nearly getting caught has faded. The last time, the first time, the _only_ time was such a far cry from this. That had been about placing her trust in her friend as they both tried to see what all the fuss was about. This, with Ben, was jumping from a precipice into the unknown and hoping, _trusting_ he would catch her. 

Slowly, not breaking her gaze away from his, she moves, fingers finding the buttons on his shirt. He inhales sharply when she flicks the first one open, and then he’s kissing her again, shrugging out of his jacket and getting her out of her own. His teeth capture her lower lip and tug. She whimpers as she pulls up on his shirt and he finally starts on hers.

“Rey,” he moans, stilling her frantic hands and pulling back from her. She takes deep breaths, staring at the way her hands are engulfed in his, the way his undershirt clings to his skin, how rumpled he looks with his dress shirt untucked but suspenders still firmly in place.

“I want you,” she whispers, barely recognizing her own voice. A gentle smile tugs at Ben’s mouth, puckering the scar on his face and she knows, can feel it sing in her soul, that he’ll catch her, no matter how far she falls.

“I want you too,” he whispers back, and she finds a smile of her own. “Can I-?” he falters, gestures at her shirt and she gives a small nod. His hands tremble as they travel down, undoing button after button. Rey pinches the clasps of the suspenders and pushes them over his shoulders to fall down behind him. His gulp is audible as he pulls her shirt apart, revealing her brasserie. It isn’t anything special to her, but clearly Ben feels differently.

“You are,” he breathes, pauses, tongue peeking out, “the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She loses herself in his kisses as he removes her shirt, fingers pressing between the flesh of her stomach and the wool of her pants. It’s somehow slow and fast and all at once and before she knows it, they’re standing before one another in their underclothes. The erection she had felt straining between them earlier is poking out between the placket of his boxers. If she stares she thinks she can see it moving in time with his pulse. 

“Oh, even your socks have suspenders,” she says in a bout of nerves and his rumbling chuckle warms her.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks gently and she nods, looking at his penis again, weeping from the tip.

“Once,” she says, fingers stretching, touching lightly, pulling back at his grunt. She looks up as she rubs her fingers together, the slick, sticky essence of him smearing. “It was — it’s hard to explain, but it was nothing like this.”

Ben smiles as his gaze travels over her. “I would imagine not,” he agrees, adjusting the tiara on her head. “I want to keep these on you,” he tells her, voice rougher than before, “I can’t promise that will stay on.” She laughs, relaxes and helps him get her out of her underclothes, then settles her on the bed. The loose diamonds tinkle as they knock together and roll, coming to a stop along her body. He sits, back to her and bends over. Rey watches the muscles in his back move while he works.

When he’s done he climbs over her, thigh on either side of hers. He winces and pushes some diamonds up and away from him, then his fingertips are gliding up the flesh of her forearms, to her shoulders. He takes her face in his hands again the way he did in the alley. He descends and practically devours her. She gets her arms around him, digs her hands into the strong muscles of his back. 

“Ben.” She shifts, trapped beneath him as his lips kiss and suck above the collar at her neck. His cock is heavy and hot between them. She feels it leaking onto her flesh beneath her belly button as he rocks against her.

Moving her hands, she pushes at his boxers and he groans against her; she echoes the sound and then he is pulling away. She makes a pitiful sound at the loss of his solid body. Quickly, awkwardly, he divests the last of his clothing and moves until he’s between her thighs. 

“Rey,” he says, sounding undone. Slowly, gently, his hands map her body. Thumbs brush against the divots at her hips, pressing in and up across her abdomen. She arches into his touch, already feeling too hot. Ben kisses her again, then down over her throat, the diamonds, her upper chest, until his mouth meets his hands as they cup her breasts. 

She cries out as he kisses first one breast and then the other, a featherlight touch before going back for more, firmer, tongue snaking out to taste, hands squeezing gently. It’s there against her breast she hears him breathe out, “I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.*” The rest of his words are lost as Rey makes a wordless sound, hands fumbling for him, any part of him, holding her to him, dragging him up to kiss her again and again and again, then pushing him back down to continue kissing her. Her nipples feel as hard as the diamonds along her side, sensitive, and she sobs when he takes one into his mouth while pinching the other.

She feels as if she knows no other word but his name, and further still he descends. His thumbs trace the creases of her thighs then he’s pressing them apart. For a moment, she’s unsure of his intention, and then his mouth is there against her, kissing her, licking her, sucking her. It doesn’t take much, she’s already so worked up from his kisses everywhere else. Her thighs clamp down around his ears, trapping him to her as her body stiffens, mouth open in a silent cry.

He’s still there, still kissing her as she relaxes her legs. “Ben,” she chokes out his name, shuddering when he hums against her. “Please, Ben, please.” Rey pulls at his hair and then his shoulders until he’s where she wants him. He looks startled when she pulls him down for a kiss, and it’s odd. tasting herself, but she can taste Ben too, and oh she wants him.

Her hands slip between them, and she manages to wrap one around his thick length. “Ben,” she breathes, trying to move her hand between them, and the angle is all wrong. She squeezes gently instead, then pumps down and up and down again, feeling the way the skin slides beneath her palm. Ben has his forehead pressed tight to her own, his eyes barely open, but he’s staring right at her. “Make love to me,” she says, squeezing him. He groans, eyes closing before opening again to look at her. “Please.”

“Rey.” He shifts, hand covering her own. She squirms beneath him as he drags his penis down, tickling at her pubic hair, bumping her clit and then pressing gently at her entrance, but not entering. “It’s been a while,” he confesses quietly and Rey nods.

“That’s okay, me too. So, go slow?” she asks, vaguely aware of the size of him, knows he’s larger than her first and only lover, and she’s nervous, but she feels safe and oh she wants him.

“Of course.” He smiles and shifts minutely. Rey exhales slowly as he eases into her, both of their hands still wrapped around him. His jaw tenses as her warmth engulfs the head of him. “Okay?” he asks, and it’s like her first time all over again.

“So okay,” she tells him, rocking her hips, letting him slip in more, and then he takes over again, pressing into her until their hands meet her flesh. Her fingertips drag down the remaining length of him before curling around his hip. He eases back and presses forward with a grunt, slow and easy, not breaking eye contact with her until he’s fully seated within her. Then his eyes flick up to the top of her head and his smile grows.

She feels so full, stretched in the best way, and she must say part of it out loud because he hums and leans over to kiss her gently. Rey shifts, lifting her legs to hug his sides as he rocks into her. She can feel some of the diamonds roll down and settle at the curve of her backside. Her hands claw at his back as he moves, mouth gasps against his as they exchange kisses and groans. 

He shifts, cupping one leg beneath her knee for leverage, the other palming at her breasts. “So beautiful,” he rasps, gaze intense. Rey blushes and looks away, down his own flushed and sweating chest to the thatch of dark hair above his cock. Every time he pulls back she can see how the hairs glisten with her wetness, how the brief peek of his cock shines as well. “You feel so good, Rey, so good.”

“Ben.” Her hands are restless, straining to touch him, clawing at the sheets, displacing diamonds. Distantly she hears some ping across the floor.

“Do you trust me?” Ben asks, breathing growing more labored.

“Yes, yes, of course. Trust you with my life, Ben,” she babbles, hand landing on the breast he’s neglecting to pinch and pull at her nipple.

“Touch yourself.” She blinks up at him, not quite understanding, and then he takes her other hand and guides it down until her fingers are slipping through her damp hair. He presses her fingers against her clit and she gasps loudly. “Keep touching.” He goes back to palming her breast, adjusting his grip on her sweaty leg. She cries out as she moves against herself. She’s touched herself here before, but it never felt like this. 

It doesn’t take much, he feels so good inside of her, on top of her, and his mouth is moving in the shape of her name. She careens over the edge of pleasure with a shout. Above her, Ben makes a sound of distress and then he’s pulling away from her, hand pumping his cock as he spills all over her stomach. 

She’s trembling, and he’s breathing hard, sitting back on his feet as he stares down at her. “Fucking gorgeous,” he tells her and she’s too hot and flushed to truly blush, but she smiles up at him.

He leans over the bed and retrieves his shirt. Methodically, he cleans her skin of his spend then leans over, kissing her belly button and up until he can kiss her mouth again.

They kiss until she notices the diamonds digging into her flesh and grunts in discomfort. Ben is quick to gather them all up, carefully moving her to get them. At some point, the crown fell from her hair and came to rest above her head. Ben carefully disentangles a few strands that are still clinging to it.

 

She’s feeling sated and warm as she watches Ben tuck everything into his safe until the morning comes. She stretches out across his bed, arms above her head, fingers hooking beneath the headboard. 

The bed dips as he returns, kneeling on it, fingers running over her throat and smoothing over the gems settled at the base. “We can’t keep it,” he says, thumb circling the largest diamond before cresting down over her sternum, between her breasts.

“I know.”

Down and down his hand travels, body shifting, looming over her, mouthing kisses against her throat above the necklace, ascending to her ear, even as his hand descends to her core once more.

“Ben,” she gasps, legs splaying open as a hand settles on his head, holding him to her. She’s already had so much, yet still she craves more.

“Of everything I have seen,” he murmurs, breath hot against her, lips teasing her earlobe, “it’s you I want to go on seeing.” She arches into his touch, takes his fingers into her willing body, “of everything I’ve touched,” his thumb brushes her clit and draws circles over it, “it’s your flesh I want to go on touching.*” His mouth presses against her rapidly thrumming pulse beneath her ear and she lets go.

She’s heavy-lidded and breathing hard as he pulls back from her, looking down with a soft smile. “There,” he breathes, easing his fingers from her, “exactly how I want to remember this piece, looking elegant around your neck, while you, my Rey, look utterly debauched. Your body flush with satisfaction, limbs relaxed with bliss, face still bright with lingering desire.”

“You can’t just say things like that, Ben,” Rey moans, throwing an arm across her face, grunting when she’s jostled as he stretches out beside her. Gently he shifts her until he can access the clasp at the back of her neck and removes the necklace from her, and now she’s truly naked before him. 

“We should get some sleep,” Ben says, pressing a kiss to her cooling flesh and vacating the bed once more. He shuts the safe with a thud and then crawls back into bed, hauling the covers up and over them, pulling her back against him. She thinks she manages a ‘goodnight’ but is asleep almost as soon as they’re settled comfortably in his bed.

It’s still dark when she wakes again, the other side of the bed cold, the safe against the opposite wall open and empty. She drags a sheet around her shoulders as she sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. There’s a grandfather clock out in the hall, and the house is so quiet she can hear each _tick, tick, tick_ of it as the seconds pass by. It doesn’t matter that she knows the hardest part is over — she worries for Ben.

Tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, she stands and shuffles over to the window. Sometime while they slept the snow had been chased away by rain, and what minimal snow cover there had been is long gone. 

A lone figure strides up the sidewalk, hands shoved deep inside pockets and cap pulled down low over his forehead. Rey exhales in relief then turns and moves out of the bedroom and to the stairs. 

She hops off the last step just as he’s opening the door. They stand, staring at one another, barely breathing, and then the door slams shut and they’re colliding as they meet each other halfway. Ben catches her easily, sweeps her up into his arms, spinning her around, cold face pressed against her neck.

“Ben,” she says, hands smoothing over his hair, legs shifting to twine around him as the blanket flares out behind her — slips and then drifts to the floor. “Ben,” she repeats as he slows.

“Rey.” He smiles as her hands cup his face in a vain attempt to warm it. “Merry Christmas,” he says and Rey gives a hiccupping laugh before kissing him. He walks them back up the stairs, and she helps divest him of his clothes, then drags him down into the bed once more. His kisses are languid and tender and she’s never been kissed quite like this before.

She feels tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Desperately, she holds him to her, not wanting him to see as the tears escape, tracking down her temples to soak into her hair. Her breath betrays her, hitching and Ben pulls back. She whimpers, wanting him back over her, his weight settling over her like a comforting blanket, she’s only experienced it twice, but she’s so greedy, so needy for it.

“Rey.” He looks panicked and she shakes her head, swiping at her eyes. “Rey, look at me,” he urges, warm hand cupping her cheek. He waits until she does. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. It’s stupid.” She feels so weak, she doesn’t know how she got to this point. Her heart lurches in her chest in betrayal. “I was worried,” she whispers into the predawn darkness. “I told you it was stupid. But I was worried that you would leave me here alone, that you would get caught.” She can’t stop crying, and it frustrates her further.

“Shh, shh, oh Rey, my darling Rey, that’s not stupid at all.” He brushes away her tears as they fall, settles back over her to begin kissing them all away. She cries harder and clutches at him. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “I’ll always come back for you, sweetheart. Always.” Her chest hitches as his lips crest her cheeks, her nose; he presses the gentlest of kisses against her lips and she tastes the salt of her tears. 

“Ben.” She cups his face and kisses him again, firmly. “I knew you would come back, but I was still worried.”

His smile is crooked, clearly pleased with her words. “You know, with the exception of my mother, I can’t think of the last time someone was genuinely worried about me.”

“Don’t be rude,” she huffs, hands falling to the bed. She’s still crying but is smiling at him. 

“I was telling the truth.” The baldness of the confession sobers her even more and she stretches up to kiss him some more.

She can feel her heart beating in her chest as their kiss evolves into more than gentle reassurances of the other’s presence. She feels him grow stiff against her thigh and moans.

He slips inside of her easily this time. A twist of his hip, a gasp of her name and he’s in her to the hilt. She holds him tight to her, refusing to let him move, so they rock against one another. She peppers kisses across his scar, his neck, everywhere her mouth can reach as he anoints her in kind. When she comes his name is barely more than a quiet gasp and then he’s pulling out of her. She moans at the loss but has the wherewithal to push his hand aside and use her own. His gaze is unfocused when he comes all over her hand and stomach, crying out her name, too.

She leaves him on the bed with a kiss and moves into the bathroom to better clean up. He’s still awake when she returns and she climbs on top of him. Ben smiles gently and she kisses him as he wraps her in his arms and the blankets.

“We should try to get more sleep. Phasma and Hux are coming over for luncheon.”

Rey wrinkles her nose and he laughs.

“I have something for you,” he confesses into the quiet that falls between them.

“I have something for you too,” she replies, kissing him again. She feels like she will never get enough of his mouth. “Later, though.” He agrees easily and they drift back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * both poems in this chapter are from Pablo Neruda. 
> 
> And while a meticulous record of the items Tiffany purchased at the auction of the French Crown Jewels, pictures only exist of a few of them - as many of the items were stripped down to their individual parts and repurposed into new pieces to sell.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to RebelRebel for looking this over for me, and just being the most supportive person.

He walks her home with Phasma after Christmas luncheon and kisses her knuckles in farewell at the door. Rose and Paige are nearly insufferable after finally getting a glance at her beau. He is, she supposes. Her fingers brush over the gem beneath her dress as she climbs the stairs to her room after dinner and knows he’s so much more than that.

One night with him and she’s been ruined. She tosses and turns all night, unable to get comfortable, get warm enough, _sleep_.

In the morning she dresses but stays in her room, content to read while she waits to hear anything. When Paige knocks on her door after lunch, her heart feels like it’s beating in her throat.

“Phone for you,” Paige says with a wide grin, poking her head into the room when Rey calls out to enter.

“Oh?” Rey swings her feet onto the floor, searching for her house slippers with her toes. She hopes she looks nonchalant, because she feels anything but.

“Yes, sounds like that tall guy who walked you home last night.”

Rey scrunches up her nose, pulling her door shut behind them, “you didn’t even meet him.”

“I was listening. He’s got that low voice, carries,” Paige winks at Rey. “Anyway, how is he as a kisser? And he walked you home on _Christmas_ , Rey, that’s so romantic.”

“I walked home with my friends.”

“Oh please, I know how to put on appearances too.” They stop in front of the door that leads to the small room that houses their telephone. “Tell him we said hi.” 

Rey waits until she has sauntered off down the hall and double-checks she is alone before opening the door and stepping inside. She picks up the mouth and earpiece before settling down in the only chair in the room. A sturdy wooden thing with no cushion, so as not to promote long conversations.

“Hello?”

* * *

She’s reading the paper at breakfast. It’s been nearly two weeks since Snoke was arrested for the theft, and still, it’s all anyone is talking about. 

She feels happy and relaxed, has enjoyed getting to know Ben and Hux without the shadow of the man over them both. She brought up dancing at Rose and Paige’s insistence and all six of them have gone out twice now. After work, she and Phasma would either go to Ben’s house, or the lovely little home Hux and Phasma shared.

Beside her, Rose is quietly whispering with Paige, and one of the other girls Kaydel, about a house party happening tonight. Rey turns the page, making a noncommittal noise when asked if she’s going.

It’s there, just above the centerfold. She reads it quickly, almost doesn’t register the words, but her eyes snap up to the top, where the title and his name are, displayed in bold black font. _His name_. Ben Solo.

‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close*’

She doesn’t even realize she’s standing at the table until Rose reaches out, gently touching her forearm.

“You alright, Rey?” she asks.

“I– yes. I’m fine, I just. I have to go.” She folds up the paper as she tears up the stairs, slamming into her room. Her coat is on in record time, cloche hat haphazardly on her head as she races back downstairs and out the front door.

She doesn’t have time or money to wait for a cab, so she runs. Racing through the cold and snowy streets of New York City, in the dull light of early morning.

His lights are on, warm and inviting as she races up the stoop to knock on the front door. Only, the door is open and she crashes inside as it gives way beneath her raised fist.

“Ben,” she gasps, righting herself on the doorknob, one arm stretched back, gripping the door frame.

“Rey,” he answers with a slow smile from where he’s waiting, down on one knee.

“I-I got your poem, it’s beautiful.” She swings the door shut, and leans back against it, breath coming in deep gulps.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you, come here.” She takes one step closer, then another, and another, until her skirt is brushing the front of his one leg. “Did you run here?” he asks, looking a little shocked.

A laugh bubbles up, rings loudly in the empty home. “I did, because I needed you to know.” She reaches toward him, fingers smoothing down his hair, curling some of the length behind his ears. “How long have you been kneeling here?”

“I heard you coming, so not long, though I probably paced long enough to wear a small track in the wood.” Nervous laughter fills the air, and then, “Rey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, head tilting to one side as she smiles. Gently, her left thumb arcs over his scar, and he smiles beneath her hands.

“Marry me?” His hands are shaking as they lift open the small box.

“Yes,” she answers readily, sinking to her own knees as well. “Yes, Ben.” She tilts his face and kisses him hard, laughing with him when they topple backward onto the floor.

It fits perfectly when they finally break long enough to put it on her finger. “It’s not that gorgeous yellow one, but it will do,” she says with a teasing grin. Kisses him again.

“Yeah, well, security is pretty tight these days after someone broke in, and right before Christmas, can you believe it?” Rey snorts inelegantly, and Ben presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t think I could have gotten it if I tried.”

“I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rey scrambles off of him, then offers a hand to help pull him up.

“Have you had breakfast? Can you stay?”

“I had coffee and a bite or two of toast, and yes, I can stay, shop’s closed today.”

“Great, let me take your coat.” He gets it off of her easily, and she removes her hat.

“Thank you.” She reaches past him and into her pocket for the paper containing his beautiful words. “But first, I have a request,” she says, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the stairs. 

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“A live reading,” she informs him, dragging him into his room. “Preferably while we’re both far less clothed.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he drawls, pulling her close to him once more, sealing their deal with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas in July!! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has given this little fic a chance. I had a lot of fun writing it.


End file.
